


Friendship, and other surprising things you can find at the Bottom of a Bottle

by Rehlia



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Drunkenness, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Swearing, Undyne swears, nice things happen to Sans, that's the only reason this has a teen rating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 13:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14770113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehlia/pseuds/Rehlia
Summary: Sans gets drunk, people take care of him, and he has feelings about it.





	Friendship, and other surprising things you can find at the Bottom of a Bottle

**Author's Note:**

> I found this buried in my oneshot folder, completely finished, and for some reason I never posted it?? I don't know why. I had completely forgotten about this but it made me feel warm and fuzzy inside when I read it, so up it goes!
> 
> [ My tumblr ](https://rehlia.tumblr.com/)

Contrary to what many monsters would think, Sans had a rather low tolerance for alcohol. 

One that followed a predictable pattern on top of that, the progressive loss of his mental coherence following the same way every time he had a set number of drinks. That number clocked in precisely at three.

After one drink, he would be happy. Open and relaxed, more so than usual, in a way that was much closer to something genuine, even though before nobody would have been able to tell that the usual way of being open and relaxed wasn’t genuine. The difference was subtle, but undeniably there. 

After two drinks, he would start to slur his words. To sing, which would always horrify him the next day. He’d start to ramble on about topics well-known (Papyrus is so cool) and not so well-known (quantum entanglement and its potential for instantaneous movement) and laugh at jokes that at this point perhaps really weren’t all that funny anymore. He’d sway and stumble, frantically grasping at furniture and people or anything else that might keep him steady when his body wouldn’t anymore. 

After three drinks, he would get weepy and clingy. He’d start mumbling about how much he loved whoever he happened to be sitting next to regardless of whether it was someone he knew or not, how much he didn’t deserve them, how much better they could do than him but please, don’t leave him, he’ll try really hard, really, no, don’t go, come back, please, there, let’s hug.

Technically, there was a fourth stage, but that one was defined by partial unconsciousness and incoherent warbles about time and space and flowers and dreams and then there was the actual breakdown where he cried, openly wept and left the monsters in front of him helpless and confused.

The last stage wasn’t one he descended into before yet. 

So. 

Of course Grillby was staring. Sans wasn’t capable of noticing much anymore, not really, but that still stood out to him. And Grillby didn't even have eyes. 

Though his vision was blurred, Sans noticed Grillby stepping around the counter of the bar, placing a hand on his scapula. 

Huh. 

That wasn’t something he usually did, while the bar was open.

...was the bar even still open? He didn’t know. 

It was nice, radiating warmth through the fabric of his hoodie and all the way through his bones. Made him feel even woozier. Sleepy and loose-limbed and soft. He felt himself being jostled as Grillby picked him up, carefully supporting him. 

“ggrlb... “ The sound came out garbled and unsteady. He had to try again. “gribby.”

Better. 

“gribbl nnnnnooo.”

There. That was good enough, right? A crackling pop of fire sounded next to Sans’ skull, a low tone rising into something lighter. A question made of flame. 

“papy,” Sans managed to mumble, and _that_ came out right. “sssss gonn’be mad.”

He felt a shift underneath him, fiery shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. That meant Grillby didn't care. Why didn't Grillby care? It wasn't good when Papyrus was mad. Because underneath ‘mad’ there was always ‘disappointed’ and ‘worried,’ and that was something Sans couldn't stand. 

The swaying movement as Sans was carried had nearly lulled him to sleep, but then _cold_ slammed into him as if he had run his skull into a brick wall. 

Sans cursed loudly, the consonants slurring into each other even more than they usually did. It shook him out of the dazed state he was in at least enough to restore him from a four drink mindset back into a three drink one, enough to stop him from falling asleep. 

Enough to remind him that the bartender was holding him like a babybones, carrying him home. 

“grrrilb… ‘m sorry,” Sans mumbled, not knowing if he was apologising for being drunk or for having to be carried or for being a lazy butt with bad jokes who kept draining Grillby’s ketchup stash all by himself. 

Maybe all of those. 

He didn’t really expect an answer. Grillby didn’t talk, as a general rule. He was a quiet sort of guy, communicating mostly by way of turning his head or his fire burning a little lower or higher, or maybe, if he was really feeling it that day, by pointing at something. 

But when he did… 

“......you’re my friend,” Grillby said. His voice was soft and light, with the low and hollow undertone a flame makes upon ignition and a faint crackle at the end, like the pop of wood as it breaks in the fire. 

And the thing was, it was a calm statement without any particular emphasis or changes in emotion, and yet Sans knew even in his alcohol-addled state that Grillby meant ‘friend’ not as in ‘we see each other sometimes and make small talk and I sell you alcohol’ but ‘friend’ as in ‘I have witnessed you at your best and your worst and I care about you regardless out of a place of genuine affection which is why I’m carrying you home right now you silly pile of bones.’

It made Sans feel warm and cared for, and happy, in a way that he had trouble wrapping his hazy mind around. 

He wasn’t able to formulate a proper response before Grillby reached his house and knocked on the door. Sans buried his head in Grillby’s shoulder, his drunk mind deciding that that was less embarrassing than looking at Papyrus’ face during all of this. So he didn’t really see what was going on, but that was fine. Buried into Grillby’s shoulder, it was nice and dark and warm and smelled like smoke. Much better than seeing the disappointed expression of his sibling and leaving his nasal bone exposed to the wintry air. 

“SAN - OH, GRILLBY. HELLO. I SEE YOU ARE RETURNING MY BROTHER. APOLOGIES FOR THE INCONVENIENCE.”

Yeah. There was the disappointed tone. And irritation? Sans wasn’t sure in his drunk state, but it sounded like it, and that was bad, that never happened before. He’d really have to apologise to Papyrus this time. 

“Yo who’s at the door you nerd, it’s fucking cold!! Close it!!”

Oh, that was Undyne. The voice was unmistakable. And sounded drunk; Sans wasn’t sure if that was only his perception or her actual state, though a loud hiccup followed by a burp pointed to the latter.

“UNDYNE PLEASE BE NICE!” 

Grillby made a careful crackling sound. 

“OH NO, DON’T FEEL OBLIGATED TO LEAVE! IT’S REALLY NICE OF YOU TO BRING MY LAZYBONES OF A BROTHER HOME. HERE, LET ME TAKE HIM!”

Sans was jostled, and the heat and smell of smoke and darkness were replaced by a brief bout of cold-bright-dizzy movement, before he was settled against a body he knew well. He cuddled closer to Papyrus, the well-known feeling of his sibling carrying him soothing his senses. 

Behind him he heard another crackle. 

“SO MANY? HOW UNUSUAL. NORMALLY HE ONLY DRINKS THAT GREASY KETCHUP OF YOURS!”

A soft pop.

“I… I GUESS I COULD COME WITH HIM FOR A MILKSHAKE NEXT TIME…”

“ _Man close the fucking door I'm freezing the scales on my arse off!_ ”

“UNDYNE!”

Crackling.

“WOULD YOU LIKE TO COME IN? I HAVE QUESTIONS, AND I COULD MAKE YOU A DRINK FOR A CHANGE!”

Sans was nearly nodding off at this point, but he still felt a low chuckle rise in his chest as Grillby’s flickering fire sounds increased in volume and frequency, without success because he was manhandled through the door regardless. The door closed, and Grillby’s fiery heat spread through the living room immediately, seeping into every corner and the walls and the cushions and probably every other nook and cranny they could reach. Lifting his head, Sans could see Grillby standing awkwardly next to the table, apparently at a loss about how to handle this. Sans gave him a shaky thumbs up as Papyrus carried him away. 

He was sat down on the couch.

Papyrus tugged a blanket over and draped part of it over Sans’ body, before walking over to the kitchen. 

“NOW WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE? YOU COULD HAVE SOME SPAGHETTI! THAT'S NOT A DRINK, BUT IT'S EXCELLENT REGARDLESS!” 

“Don't steal my blanket,” Sans heard from next to him. When he managed to wrangle his head sideways he found Undyne staring at him with her single, yellow eye. She looked tired and woozy, her head swaying as if she had trouble keeping it upright. 

“nah,” he mumbled. 

“Pfff. That's right. You're too small anyway,” she slurred. “Nerd.” 

Despite her words, Undyne didn't attempt to take the blanket away from him either. She had already gotten toasty underneath it, and Sans now got to profit off the stored body heat. Although he also brought some warmth along himself, thanks to Grillby. 

He smiled while he continued to listen to his brother's excited babble and Grillby’s crackling fire sounds in the kitchen. Undyne was grumbling next to him, her low and slurred speech slowly transforming into quiet snores. 

Sans felt warm and cosy. He maybe wouldn't have picked Undyne and Grillby to invite to his house under usual circumstances, but now that things had happened this way, he was happy that they were here. His brother, someone his brother cared about a lot, and one of Sans’ own friends. All together, and two of those were working to take care of him… 

His soul gave a squeeze and Sans wondered if this was what people meant when they talked about extended and found families. 

If it was, it sure felt good.


End file.
